


L.A. Confidential (1/1)

by sevendeadlyfun



Category: Jossverse
Genre: Community: feedmykink, Community: tamingthemuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlyfun/pseuds/sevendeadlyfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>There are eight million stories in the naked city. Women die, men fuck, and the malevolent wheel of fate bares our back to the lash. Some stories never get told, falling between the grand schemes and dirty deeds that make the headlines.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	L.A. Confidential (1/1)

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

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[me and kid](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/tag/me%20and%20kid), [spike/angelus](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/tag/spike/angelus)  
  
  
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Pairing: Spike/Angelus

Rating: NC-17

Summary: _There are eight million stories in the naked city. Women die, men fuck, and the malevolent wheel of fate bares our back to the lash. Some stories never get told, falling between the grand schemes and dirty deeds that make the headlines._

A/N: Co-written with that temptress who brings with her romance,intrigue,and adventure (plus she's a snappy dresser) [](http://kidcyclone.livejournal.com/profile)[**kidcyclone**](http://kidcyclone.livejournal.com/)  in her by now infamous Fanged Four 'Verse for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/feedmykink/profile)[**feedmykink**](http://community.livejournal.com/feedmykink/)  [48-Hour Challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/feedmykink/108045.html). Incorporates [](http://community.livejournal.com/tamingthemuse/profile)[**tamingthemuse**](http://community.livejournal.com/tamingthemuse/)  prompt 091-_rusting_.

_Of all the gin joints in all the world, I had to walk into this one. Some "great hunting ground". A bunch of low-rent losers living low-rent lives. The dim, windowless room was thick with cigarette smoke and if it's been cleaned since the last earthquake, I'll start rescuing puppies. Besides, the type of woman I'm looking for won't be here. She's refined, a real lady with a taste for the finer things. Rather like Darla except the woman I'm looking for will have her natural hair color. Damn woman! Evince a little interest in a perfectly exciting murder and she takes it all the wrong way._

_Her new hair color throws off the aesthetic balance entirely. We were a rare treat, two blondes and two brunettes striding forward, turning heads. I admit that raven's black is a fetching color, but it ruins everything. Why would she want to look like a mutilated corpse, anyways?_

_Might be because mutilated corpses give you quite the stiffy, mate._

_Spike!_

_Someone has to liven up this funereal piece of dreck. Anyway, getting back on track, we were cooling our heels in the City of Angels, sampling the occasional waitress-cum-aspiring-starlet. Add to that some nummy fresh orange juice and a bracing side of corruption, L.A. made for the perfect palate cleanser after a visit to the Ice Queen's Sire. Slimy git managed to trap himself inside sort of vortex on the Hellmouth._

  
Angelus stared dolefully at his surroundings and the pitiful humans that lay draped or slumped around the filthy room. Not a woman to be seen, and the men here were none too alluring in their persons or their hygiene. He hadn't been a in a bar this repugnant since the night he died.

Bit of an exaggeration, that, he reflected. He'd been in plenty of filthy and depraved places. Hell, he'd helped create a great deal of filth and depravity. But the death of one of these pathetic wretches wouldn't shock a church matron, let alone a city and he deeply wanted to create a buzz.

The Dahlia killing had swept over L.A. like a wildfire. A lovely woman, her face and body mutilated beyond recognition. Exactly who would do such a despicable thing was the subject on everyone's lips. Angelus resented that. He didn't crave the attention, but he wanted the fame.

Oh sure, he could disembowel a toddler or two. That would get him the front page for a day or so. But Dahlia had granted her killer an immortality, fixed his ominous shadow in the hearts and minds of the public forever. How could he, the Scourge of Europe, settle for anything less?

The cherry tip of Spike's cigarette glowed from his hiding spot in the shadows. He inhaled, letting the smoke escape his nose where it curled around to wreath his head before dissipating to join the general fug of sweat, steam and smoke that hazed the dim bar. Following his Sire without the older vampire cottoning to his presence was a lot easier now that his first dozen decades were behind him. But still, it paid to be careful so he kept his distance. The smoke and stink did a nice job of masking his scent.

It was a bloody riot, watching His Daintiness step around the ooze and slime of this dive. He'd found this hole their first two days in the city, doing Angelus' dirty work. He'd been ordered to scout around, as Darla required Angelus full attentions to "recover" from the upset of seeing her Sire. Bollocks! Spike snorted, stubbing his fag end out on the scarred table.

Madame never required an excuse to tug the apron strings tight, but having one didn't hurt. So when the Dahlia business had distracted his Sire from being Darla's beck and call boy, it seemed like the perfect opportunity for Spike to have his turn. He'd taken advantage of his Sire's obsession with murdering some likely chit in a gruesome way and directed him to this bar. Full of slappers, Spike had assured him. Just the right sort, all dolled up and eager for a bloke's attentions.

There were plenty of slappers here and they were indeed eager for a bloke's attention. But not one of'em had an ounce of girlish charm. This place catered to bum boys and queers, something Spike was fully aware would not tempt Angelus' delicate palate.

The sound caught his attention first. In the near silence of the hazy room, the slight liquid slurp bounced off the four walls, booming percussively in Angelus' sensitive ears. He turned, his interest finally piqued.

He focused his attention on the sound, ignoring the few dull conversations going on and the ever-present sound of traffic on the street. The sound was rhythmic- soft, definitely liquid and somehow familiar. He strode across the bar to an open doorway that led to a narrow hallway with plaster exposing wooden lathes and marked with chips and knife marks and random obscene graffiti. The sound led him to a rickety door. He wrinkled his nose at the smell from beyond it- then pushed it open and walked in, careful where he stepped.

The toilet was, if anything, even danker and more repulsive than the bar. When the dilapidated door swung to with a bang, the sound stopped for a moment. Angelus stood stock still in the center of the tile floor; the only sound in the room the steady drip of a leaky tap. He took everything in- the flickering fluorescent light, the warped, scratched mirrors, the line of sinks, streaked with grime, the rusting, battered roller with its fetid length of toweling hanging limply, as if defeated.

Angelus cautiously, stealthily, crossed the floor. There was the standard row of urinals against the wall, and a row of wooden toilet stalls- two of which appeared occupied. His anticipation was honed to a razor edge. He stood outside the wooden partition, head cocked, and listening. His ears hadn't deceived him- there were obviously a couple of deviants inside. But how were they having it on? They were in separate stalls. Still, the sounds of the gasps and half-stifled moans made it obvious what they were up to.

Spike grinned, his face a mischievous death's head. The old tosser had finally taken the bait. He bounced from his seat, whistling a merry tune as he made his way towards the rear of the pub.

He slowed and came to a near creep as he approached the door. Wouldn't do to startle his Sire. Angelus had a tetchy habit of breaking necks when he was startled. He also wasn't very picky about whose neck got broken and while Spike was fairly certain he'd heal, he wasn't rightly keen on finding out how long it would take. He sidled through the saloon-style doors, coming up to stand just behind Angelus. He ran an inquisitive finger over the broad muscular back, shivering as the muscles flexed and tensed under his touch. Bloody hell, the suspense was killing him!

Angelus whipped around and caught the slender, muscular hand, twisting the boy's wrist up and backwards as he brought his other hand around to grasp William by the back of the hair. Grinning wolfishly, he whispered, "I might've known. Couldn't resist following me, could you lad? Now shh-shh-- listen carefully. There are a couple of deviants in there. What say we roust them?"

Spike growled lightly, insinuating his leg between Angelus' thighs and inching them closer to the stall. With his Sire's hands tugging on him, it was difficult to remember why exactly he'd been so keen to try this out. But, if this went as he expected, he'd finally have one up on the old man and that was a prize well worth working towards.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," Spike murmured, working himself free of Angelus' grip and turning the larger man to face the stall wall. "Besides, what's wrong with being a deviant? Can think of a fair few deviant practices enjoyed by the whole family..."

He ran a firm hand down the thickening length pressing against Angelus' zipper. With a flick of his wrist, he freed the first few buttons and groaned as the musky tang of his Sire's groin overrode the stench of the noxious room. His hips rocked instinctively as his lips found Angelus' ear.

" 'S a gloryhole," he whispered. "Chance for some anonymous bloke to give you a trip to heaven. Now what could be finer than that, love? You, me, and a bit of all right giving this stonker a good seeing too." He emphasized his point with a firm tug on the thick cock peeking out of Angelus' trousers.

Angelus was slightly surprised when the boy began to undo his trousers right there in the men's' toilet. He'd trained him better than that. Of course, what with having to deal with Darla's wretched Sire over the last few days, maybe he'd been neglecting the boy. Dealing with the shirtlifters in the stalls could wait a bit. Angelus always enjoyed sex before bloodshed- an aperitif, if you will.

He licked his lips as William whispered in his ear, the boy's own lips brushing against his sensitive flesh and making his cock swell even more. Facing the blistered paint of the wooden partition before him, Angelus turned his head to whisper to his boy, "But haven't I got you for that? What do I need some anonymous shirtlifter for?"

Spike smirked, undoing the last of the buttons and pulling Angelus' cock completely free. "You told me yourself that eternity shouldn't be wasted on repetition."

He slid around his Sire's bulk and undid his own trouser buttons. With a gentle hand, he fed Angelus' cock into the round aperture before his Sire could voice another protest. The sounds of greedy suckling filled the small space, and Spike bit his lip as Angelus' expression changed from one of bemusement to one of pure, erotic pleasure.

Angelus had just opened his mouth to tell the boy that the head of the clan of Aurelius did not go around sticking his cock into anonymous holes in public toilets- and to ask where the hell the boy had learnt so much about 'gloryholes' anyway, when the cheeky brat closed his strong hand around his hard cock and gently but firmly pushed it through the opening in the wood. Then he felt it- the soft, pliant lips closing around him, engulfing his cock with a warm wetness. He steadied himself against the partition and gasped despite himself.

He'd walked the Earth as a bringer of chaos and panic for a hundred and ninety four years. He'd fucked in palaces and farmhouses; in cowsheds and carriages; in alleyways and opulent hotels and cheap flophouses; in empty schoolrooms and dank cellars and once, in the sacristy of a church. Between Darla, Penn, Drusilla and William, they'd reenacted the erotic drawings of the Greeks, the Persians, the Romans and the Japanese. He'd used feathers and wax, whips and cord, leather straps, wine, honey, gingerroot, champagne and blood.

He had begun to think that nothing under the sun could surprise him.

As the smooth, wet and warm human tongue willingly glided over his glans and flicked the lips of his slit, he shuddered and almost groaned out loud. His grasp on the wooden partition tightened, his fists clenching the wood spastically as he panted his pleasure. Now the anonymous person on the other side of the wall was enthusiastically taking his length in, swallowing his cock, engulfing it, and Angelus pressed closer to the wall, swallowing hard and closing his eyes.

Spike watched in wide-eyed fascination, his rampant cock moving furiously in and out of his fist. He loved sucking Angelus dry, gobbling down his Sire's prick as if it were a rare delicacy. However, he'd never really seen Angelus at the height of his pleasure. In any of their family encounters, Spike was usually busy with one or other of the women if he wasn't servicing Angelus himself. So watching his Sire pant and writhe on the receiving end of a talented mouth and tongue was blissfully new and excitingly arousing. Spike pumped his cock, moaning in desperation.

"Sire," he groaned. "Want to...unnh...come."

Angelus swallowed hard, thrusting against the wall, and growling low in his throat with pleasure. Eyes closed, he focused on the fantastic sensations of having his cock eagerly tongued, lapped and swallowed. Somehow the filth and sleaziness of the surroundings actually added to the excitement. He grunted, feeling his balls tighten, and heard William's anxious plea.

"Good boy, that's a good boy, William, go ahead and come- come for Daddy. Oh fuck- fucking fantastic!"

Angelus shuddered as his own orgasm coursed through him, and his cock throbbed, pulsing as he shot what seemed like a gallon of cum into the eager and all-too receptive mouth of his anonymous servicer.

Spike almost sobbed in relief as Angelus gave him permission to spend. His body, tense and taut, shuddered as sticky strings of cum dripped from his cock. The viscous liquid covered his fist in white spatters. Leaning back, Spike gave a final shaky sigh as he brought his hand to his mouth. His pink tongue slid out to lap at the ropy white cum, and he smiled when he heard the soft hiss.

"Want a taste?" he asked, swirling a finger inside his mouth.

Angelus breathed in deeply, scenting his childe's release, and hissed with pleasure. The boy deserved a treat for this. Something really special. As soon as they got home, Angelus promised himself that he'd lavish the boy's lithe little body with all the discipline and affection and sexual ecstasy a young vampire could handle

Pulling away from the partition, Angelus wiped his cock clean with his hand before pushing it into his trousers. Then turning to grasp the back of his boy's neck and shoving Spike up against the wall. Angelus plundered the boy's mouth. The lavish kiss gave him a taste of Spike's salty-sweet semen, and Angelus moaned before diving brutally back between pliant lips.

Angelus tore himself away from Spike's swollen lips and gasped, "What about them?" He jerked his head towards the stall.

Spike shrugged, hips thrusting his renewed erection towards his Sire. "What about'em? Had their fun, didn't they?"

Angelus considered the boy's words. On the one hand, sucking him off should be reward in and of itself. Let them live could be considered indulgent. However, it had been a lovely hummer and he was eager to get Spike back to their suite.

"I suppose we could forgo the usual slaughter," Angelus allowed. "But mind you keep that bit to yourself. No blathering to the women about my going soft."

"Keep it confidential-like," Spike agreed, all amiable nods and horny flesh.

_  
There are eight million stories in the naked city. Women die, men fuck, and the malevolent wheel of fate bares our back to the lash. Some stories never get told, falling between the grand schemes and dirty deeds that make the headlines. We may not have made the headlines, but we…_

_"Just say The End, you wordy bit of fuck! A suckjob in a gloryhole isn't the Maltese bloody Falcon."_

_No. It's better._   


  


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**L.A. Confidential (1/1)**   
_


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